>Untitled

>

They quiver in transcentental harmony as the sea breeze filters through their colonies on the gracefully gnarled branches brown and wrinkled, persistent wrinkles, flowing through the silent eternal past into the wriggling, slithering, dynamic present. They are green without the glaze, just a sombre matte that rubs past the salty wind leaving behind the sparks of a timeless rythm. The fragrance emanates from the white, delicate, coy. They fall as flakes, turning as their petals allow them to fall on the lawn where the buttercup flits tiny pinks blossom.

The harmony is recalcitrant, it is sense out of chaos, order inextricable fom disorder. The trunk rises and in parts falls back to the ground to rise again with surreal grace, as if the fall had a posessive purpose. The twitter is varied and the abodes are in plenty somewhere among the cellars of a beautiful maze. They fly amongst the song of the green matte conducted by the breeze and the falling white fragrance that lands on the lawn.

It soars above the rest of the green and spreads beyond the reach all creepers, showering the green beneath it where buttercups play, with a magnificent and peaceful majesty.

Advertisements

9 thoughts on “>Untitled

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: